DeAnna Zankich
Sequel is | Those Frightful Rocks
Summary: Big commitments cause very cold feet and Vince goes into "testing mode" again.
Warnings: None
Vince:
The rain woke him in the middle of the night, sleeting against the big windows in the lounge. Vince sat up in bed taking care not to pull the covers off Stuart who still slept soundly at his side.
He crept out of the bed and tugged off the white blanket they weren't using, wrapping it around him as he went downstairs. Vince sat in the big fuzzy chair in the lounge and looked at the rain drumming the window for a long time.
Everything was different now. He knew that. Commitments of this size always brought enormous changes with them and Vince would lie to say he wasn't terrified of what might happen. His greatest fear was losing the intimacy he and Stuart shared-having the core of their deep friendship crack under the pressure of becoming life partners.
And then there was that other thing . . . The Brian Incident.
At first, Vince had felt certain he was over it-that both Brian and Stuart were forgiven and that they could all move passed it. He'd gone on as though all was well for almost twenty four hours, but that night he was awakened by fitful dreams. Dreams about betrayal and falling off cliffs and dreams about being chased by dark figures in unknown corridors. Dreams about panic and wild uncertainty. Vince began wondering if he really could get passed the fact that his fianc had once again cheated on him.
When he thought about it in his heart of hearts, the cheating wasn't really the thing that disturbed him. It was the fact that he'd told Stuart it was his `last free shag'. Vince was just beginning to feel the true weight of his own statement. He told Stuart he was all out of chances and that the next time he broke his promise . . . Vince was off. No excuses, no discussion-everything they'd built together, including their lifelong friendship, would be over. These were words he knew he could not take back, even though he was terrified of their meaning. He had laid down that law and he would have to obey it.
Vince swallowed and his throat clicked. He felt cold down in his bones. What had he done by saying those things? What terrible chain of events had he unwittingly set into motion?
Glancing back at Stuart-his best friend and his lover-sleeping soundly on their bed, Vince felt helpless and frightened. Stuart was his life and he would not be able to survive without him-but could Vince live with himself if he just rolled over and forgave him the next time he slept with someone else? What sort of man did that make Vince?
Sighing from deep inside his body, he laid his head back on the chair and looked out the window. The rain pelted the plate glass like the insistent knocking of a thousand tiny consequences.
* * *
Stuart:
Sandra let him know Vince was on line two and he wrapped up his other call quickly.
"I hate to wake up alone," he said softly. "Did you tell me you had the early shift?"
"Uh, no," Vince said, his tone tentative and cool. "I met Mum for breakfast. Stuart . . . I'm . . . going to stay with her tonight. I . . . need a little space to think."
Stuart's heart stopped and he couldn't breath. "Wha' . . ? Why? What about?"
Vince let out a hitching sigh. "I need to sort some things about the whole Brian issue. I thought I was all right with it but the more I think about it . . . the more it upsets me. I just . . . need to think on me own for a day or so."
"A day or so?" Stuart repeated, his voice lifting an octave. "You're staying away that long?"
"It won't be long. I just . . ." he sighed again. "I need some time to think."
"About what, Vince? You need to think about whether or not you want to be with me? Is that what you're saying?"
Vince did not reply.
"Fine. That's just fine. You call me when you sort it out. I'll feed your fish." He slammed the phone down, boiling with rage and fear and not knowing how to process what just happened.
Stuart sat there for a desperate moment, having no idea what to do. He never planned for an event like that-never imagined Vince would ever leave him, even for a few days. Not knowing where else to turn, he picked up the phone and called Kate.
* * *
Kate:
I'm sitting there typing a letter to this yahoo in Dallas who wants us to do a campaign for his manure company when my phone rings. My assistant tells me it's Stuey so I put him on the headset and keep typing.
"Hey," I say. "This idiot in Texas actually wants to hire us to sell his bags of cow shit. Can you imagine? I've already got an idea for the tag line-"our shit doesn't stink, it grows roses'." I laugh `cause I always laugh at my own jokes-someone has to-but there's no sound from the other end of the line and I'm thinking Stuey has me on hold or something and then he talks.
"Vince left."
"WHAT?" I know I shouted in his ear but I was shocked so I can't be blamed. "What the hell happened?"
"I don't know," he says and I've never heard him sound like that. He sounds like a lost child calling his mother's name into a crowd of strangers. "He wasn't there when I woke up and then he just rang and said he was going to stay with his mother for a day or so. A fucking day or so, Katey! What the hell does that sound like to you? He left me!"
"Calm down, bunny. Go back to the beginning. How did this get started?"
I get up and close my office door, signaling to Christine that I don't want to be disturbed with calls. Stuart tells me about the whole thing with Brian, most of which I knew, and about how Vince seemed to be okay with it last night. How he even seemed turned on by it and Stuart tells me about all the smelling and licking his lover did (and I love all the delicious imagery he uses as he tells me) and how they had hot make-up sex that involved him getting spanked with that silver brush. I listen while he tells me that he felt sure everything was all right between them and how Vince warned him that Brian was his last free fuck. Next time, Vince was leaving.
"He said `next time'," I repeat for clarification. "Not this time. So he's not leaving. He just needs to think."
"About what?" Stuart sounds so desperate that it breaks my heart.
"Honey, maybe he's just freaking out a little. As usual, Brian's timing sucks and this whole thing happened at a really tricky juncture in your relationship. It sounds like he just needs a few days to let the dust settle. He was just as into being with Brian as you were and I'm sure that's stirring up some shit in his mind. He's probably feeling a ton of things-like guilt, uncertainty, sadness. It's probably really overwhelming."
"But . . ." Stuart's voice is clenched and I'm almost certain he's going to cry. "Why can't he sort through that with me? Why does he have to leave?"
"Because . . ." I pause, trying to think of a reason off the top of my head-something, anything to say that will make him feel less frightened. "Because you can be very distracting, bunny. You two have a white-hot attraction that can't be denied and I'm sure it's hard for Vince to concentrate when he's with you. Or, at least that's what I've got for now. I'll have to think about this some more before I can be more insightful."
He sighs and I hear him sniff. God, the poor thing is crying.
"Stuart, can you try to be patient with him? Give him the time he's asked for? It's only a few days."
"What if he doesn't come back?" he says and I can hardly hear him.
"He'll come back, sweetie. I know he will."
"How do you know?"
"I just know," I say and it's the God's honest truth. I DO know Vince will come back. What I don't know is how long he'll stay when he does. This part I keep to myself. "He loves you and he'll come back. Just give him a few days and try to be patient with him."
"Christ," Stuart groans. "Katey, what if he's really going to leave?"
"He's not," I say definitively. "Don't think like that. Just concentrate on getting through the days until he comes back."
"I'll go mad."
"Probably, but you can always call me. I'll come out there if you want. I'll stay with you. Do you want me to? You know I'll get a flight right now if you want me to."
"Oh, luv . . . that's all right." He sighs again-a big, heaving sound like he's just shrugged off the weight of the world. "I will call you though. Most likely a lot."
"I'll be here. The whole time." I say this to him while I'm hugging myself with my own arms, wishing he could feel it. "You gonna be okay today?"
"No," he says. "But I've got three meetings so I have to go. I'll ring you later, yeah?"
"Yeah. Whenever you want. I'll be here. You have all my numbers."
"Thanks, Kate."
"I'll get you through this, Stuart. I promise. It'll be okay."
He just hangs up and I'm left sitting there on the edge of my desk listening to the dial tone and wondering . . . God, what if Vince does leave him? My sweet friend would lose his mind if that happened. I just wish there was something I could do-something more than just holding Stuart's hand while he waits.
* * *
Hazel:
"Bernie will bunk in with me so you can have your old room," she said, putting the kettle on.
"Oh, I'd really rather . . ." Vince stood by the table, his suit coat still on from work that day and a distant, crumpled expression on his handsome young face. "If you don't mind, Mum, I think I'd rather bunk in with you. Don't want to put Bernie out. Besides, it would too strange sleeping in my old room." He looked up at her with his lovely blue eyes and tried a smile. "If you don't mind, that is."
"I don't mind, luv," Hazel said. "It's quite nice, actually, you wanting to sleep with your mummy." She winked at him trying to get him to cheer up, even though she knew there wasn't much chance of that.
Vince took off his coat and hung it over the back of one of the chairs at the table, then he sat down. "Can I nick a cigarette?"
She gave him her pack and her lighter. "Have you phoned him today?"
"Yeah. To tell him I was here."
"How did he take it?"
Vince breathed a rueful laugh. "How do you think?"
"Right. Well, what would you like for tea?"
"I'm not at all hungry," he said.
"That makes no never mind to me. I'm your mother and I WILL feed you, even if I have to shove the food down your throat like an ornery puppy. So, you might as well tell me what you fancy so you'll at least like it when I have to force you to eat."
Laughing sadly, Vince blew smoke up at the ceiling. "Whatever you want to cook is fine. Or we could out if you like."
"I think you should stay in," Hazel said. "Just in case."
"Just in case what?"
She leaned on the counter and faced him, pursing her lips pensively. "You do know he's going to stop at nothing to get to come home, right? He'll be ringing constantly and coming `round begging."
"Stuart doesn't beg," Vince said, softly. "And I've asked him for a few days is all. He won't bother me."
"Yes, he will." Hazel reached for the Benson's and lit one for herself. "I know that little Irish bastard as well as I know you and he'll definitely come after you. Any way he can. He loves you, Vince. But more than that, he needs you. Stuart Alan Jones won't stand for his beloved Vince being gone too long, trust me."
Looking down, Vince tapped his cigarette into an ashtray on the table. She could see how tired and drawn he looked-how sad. Hazel frowned, choosing her next words very carefully.
"Vincent."
He raised his eyes to her, expectantly.
"I want you to listen to me very carefully, all right? Now, I know I'm probably the last person on earth that should be giving relationship advice, seeing as I've never really had one, but . . . like I just said, I know the two of you better than you know yourselves and I think I have a plan. If you'd like to hear it, that is. I won't be offended if you want me to just butt out."
"Tell me," he said.
Hazel pulled up a chair and sat across from him, ashing her cigarette before she began speaking again. "You told me this morning that you scared yourself by what you said to Stuart-the thing about next time he cheated, you were off. Right?"
"Right."
"So, if you scared yourself then you must have also deeply affected him with what you said."
"He didn't seem anymore affected by it than any other time I've said that. He knows I won't leave him, Mum. It's an idle threat."
"But, it's not," she said. "Not this time. That's why YOU'RE so scared. You meant it and the idea that everything could be over in the blink of an eye . . . that's the rub, isn't it? You need him to stay in line because he'll ruin everything for BOTH of you if he doesn't."
He looked down at the table, frowning.
"Vinnie," she continued. "Look at me."
Vince did as he was told, his expression reminding her of the way he used to look when he was a child.
"Do YOU believe yourself?" she asked gently. "Will you leave him if he cheats again?"
His brow knit and he squirmed in his seat. "I . . . want to believe I will, but I dunno, Mum. I need him. I can't really imagine my life without Stuart. What good would I be if I left him?"
"What good would you be if you didn't?! You couldn't respect yourself, Vince." She looked at him seriously, searching his eyes for the resolve she hoped to find there. "I think you should prove it to both of you."
"What do you mean?" he said.
"I mean, make sure you can count on yourself. Stay away from him for a few days and let him know you can do it. Stay here with me until the weekend."
"I can't," Vince said, miserably.
"I think you can," Hazel told him. "I think you can and I think you should. Prove it to yourself, Vincent. Just so you know. Pick a day and keep it in your mind-the day when you plan to go back. That way, you'll know this trial is finite. That will help you through it."
Vince shook his head. "I'll die."
"No you won't! You'll be miserable and sad and lonely and you'll most likely take to having a wank in the bath by tomorrow night but you will not DIE!"
He chuckled weakly, looking at her with his sad beautiful blue eyes. "I didn't bring enough clothes for a stand off of this magnitude. I've only got a change for work tomorrow."
"Stuart has to work, doesn't he? I'll go by the flat and get whatever you want while he's out. Just write it down and tell me where to find it."
The kettle started rocking and she stood up to make them a coffee.
"Vince, I know you're thinking I'm mad," she went on. "But I want you to trust me. I promise you this WILL work. Put the fear of God into him and he'll behave himself for at least two years. Maybe longer. When you start to think his eye might be wandering again, do THIS again. Up and leave him twisting in the wind for a good handful of days."
When Hazel looked back at her son, Vince's head was down on the table and he was shaking it back and forth woefully.
"Christ, Mum . . ." he muttered. "I'll have a full head of gray hair before we make it to our two year anniversary."
Hazel turned to him and planted her hands on her hips. "Vincent."
He raised his head and gave her a doleful look.
"Remember when you first got together and everyone was telling you you were mad for agreeing to be his lover?"
"Yeah."
"Remember what I told you?"
Vince sat back in the chair and took a long hit from his cigarette. "You told me I should do it-that even if it only lasted for a short time, at least I would have got to love him the way I always wanted to."
"Right," Hazel said, pleased that he recalled her words so perfectly. "I knew he would break your heart. Bloody hell, Vince, HE knew he would break your heart. He sat on the edge of my bed upstairs and told me so the very same night you accepted him. But you are not powerless here. He needs you more. That's certain. Now, let him feel the pinch of your absence. Let him know what it's like to be without you now that he's grown so accustomed to your constant forgiveness." She walked over to her son and lifted his chin so he had to look at her. "Trust me, Vinnie. I'm not wrong about this. Make him wait a few days."
"I don't think I can wait . . . I'm aching for him already."
She sighed. "That's just sex. Go up and have a wank, you'll feel better." She ruffled his hair then went back to making their coffees. "Like I said, pick a day and keep it in your mind. Don't tell him, just keep it for yourself so YOU'LL know when the end of this will be. Go on, then, pick a day."
"Tomorrow."
She scowled teasingly. "Pick another day."
He crushed out his cigarette and groaned. "Oooh . . . all right. Sunday."
"Sunday!" Hazel exclaimed. "Blimey! That's a lot braver than I thought you'd be. Sunday, it is. That's four days. Oh, yes. He'll be extremely anxious by then."
"And he'll just go out and shag someone else," Vince said. "This is stupid, Mum. I'm asking for him to cheat if I do this."
"No you're not and no he won't," she said, carrying his cup to the table. "He will be so distressed by you not being home, he won't be thinking about cruising boys. Trust me. I know it's hard, luv. I know it sounds mad."
"Completely."
Hazel brought her own cup to the table and sat down. Placing her hand over his, she gave it a gentle squeeze. "You know I would never steer you wrong, don't you?"
"Not willingly, of course not, but-"
She held up her hand to stop him. "I'm not wrong about this, Vince. Make him cope it out until Sunday and just watch him crawl to you. He'll be a changed man."
"Mum . . . I LOVE Stuart. I don't want to hurt him or make him change . . ."
"He needs to change this one thing if he's going to deserve to marry you. That's all there is, really. He needs to change this one thing. And you can help him if you're willing to go through with it." She took a deep breath and picked up her coffee, knowing she should stop talking then. He had to make the choice himself and no more cajoling from his mother was going to help him get there.
Vince raked his fingers through his hair and rubbed his eyes. After a long moment, he let out a deep sigh. "Have you got a slip of paper and something to write with?"
She tilted her head and gave him a sidelong glance. "Not to write a suicide note, is it?"
He smiled wearily. "Not yet. Maybe by tomorrow night, though. I want to write down what I need from the flat."
"Good boy," Hazel said, leaning over to give him a kiss on the nose. "You won't be sorry. Well . . . you will for the next four days, but it will be worth it. I'm positive of that." She reached into a drawer and got out a pad and pen for him.
"I reckon we'll just have to wait and see," he said and then he began to make a list.
* * *
Stuart:
He laid on the hard wood floor in the middle of the flat with a bottle of vodka and the telephone. It was two in the morning and he was waiting for Kate to get home from the office. She'd had a cocktail meeting with an important client so he couldn't call her until she was finished. She said she'd be home by 9:30. Stuart glanced at the clock again through blurry eyes, thinking he might pass out before the clock struck half two.
He woke up stiff and achy the next morning in that same position on the wood floor. It was just after 8:00 and he had to get ready for work, but he felt too awful to move. At least he'd spent the night without Vince and he hadn't died from it. Granted, he also hadn't slept in their bed. That would be the worst part. Stuart didn't think he'd be able to do that at all.
He sighed and got up slowly, making his way to the bathroom where he forced himself to throw up. There wasn't much in his belly but he still felt better after being sick. He drank some water and made a slice of toast that he left half eaten on the counter and then he got in the shower.
Going through the motions methodically, he got himself cleaned up and dressed and out the door for the office. He felt like a zombie-empty and dead and wanting. Stuart Jones had never felt so alone in his life.
* * *
Hazel:
At just after three o'clock that Thursday afternoon, she let herself into the flat on Mariner's Court. She called out Stuart's name just to make certain he wasn't there and then she went right to the bedroom to gather Vince's things. She followed his directions to the letter, finding the small suitcase in the bottom of the wardrobe and then collecting the garments he'd written down. Carefully she placed three days worth of her son's clothing and underwear into the bag and then she closed the wardrobe again.
As she stepped back down from the bedroom she spotted the vodka bottle sitting on the floor next to the phone. Glancing back up to the bed, she saw that it had not been slept in. Her mind put together a picture of Stuart sleeping on that cold wood floor trying to convince himself not to call Vince. He hadn't called, so he'd apparently won that little battle with himself. Still, the image of him suffering like that was not one that pleased her. Perhaps she'd underestimated just how broken he would be over Vince's absence.
Frowning, Hazel took the bag of her son's clothes and left the flat quietly, deciding not to mention what she's seen to Vince.
* * *
Vince:
He'd gone through the day like a robot, doing his job and dealing with customers, working with the staff. But his mind had never stopped churning with thoughts of Stuart and how he missed him and how awful it was to be apart. By the time he got back to Hazel's that evening, Vince was exhausted. He undressed and showered, then he flopped on her bed and curled into a ball.
This was where she found him when she returned with his stuff and she sat on the edge of the bed beside him, petting his head.
"I got your things," she told him, nodding to the bag by the bedroom door.
"He wasn't home?"
"No."
"Could you tell if . . ." he stopped himself and sighed, closing his eyes.
"He hadn't slept in the bed, luv. I'm assuming that's what you were going to ask. He probably fell asleep on the sofa." She looked at him closely. "Did you ring him today?"
"No," he said. "Mum . . . I'm dying. I miss him so much."
"It's only the first day, luv. You'll have to buck up if you're going to make a successful go of this. Come on. Come downstairs and we'll play cards or something. Poker. Canasta. Anything you want." She tugged his arm gently trying to pull him to a sitting position.
Vince let himself be dragged up but he hardly had enough energy to stay vertical. His shoulders slumped and he heaved a sigh. "I can't do it, Mum. I'm just not strong enough. I need to see him."
Hazel stood up and took off her jacket, tossing it on the end of the bed. "Come on. Gimme your hand."
He let her drag him off the bed and he followed her listlessly down the stairs and into the kitchen. She put him in a chair then she reached into a grocery bag on the table.
"I got some wine. It'll help you sleep. And, I got sandwiches from the market-the ones you like with the hard salami. This way, we don't have to clear anything up and we can just sit here all night and do whatever it takes to keep your mind off Stuart. I know, Scrabble!"
He rolled his eyes but he had to smile. He knew she was enjoying looking after him and helping him through this. And somewhere deep inside, he also knew she was right. If he could just make it through the next few days, it might actually make enough of an impact on Stuart that he would mend his evil ways. At least for a bit. And that bit might be long enough for Vince to feel happy again.
"Here," he said. "I'll open it." He took the bottle of wine from her and went to the counter with it, opening the drawer beside the sink for the corkscrew. As she continued to unload the groceries, the phone rang. Hazel picked it up.
"Hello?" She paused and he looked at her, hoping against hope that it was Stuart. "Yes, luv. It was me. I was there for some of Vince's things," she said.
Vince's heart hammered in his chest and before he knew it he'd crossed the kitchen and was taking the phone out of her hand. Hazel shook her head and walked away.
"Stuart?"
"Why did she come for more of your things? When are you coming home?" he said, his voice soft and sketchy.
"I . . . I'm going to stay here for the weekend. I just need . . ."
"Vince . . . please come home. I need you."
Vince squeezed his eyes shut and his free hand clenched into a fist. The pained sound of Stuart's voice actually hurt him physically. "I can't. Not yet. Just a few days, luv."
"What can I do? Please, tell me what I can do. I'll beg if you want . . ."
"No, I don't want that. I don't. I just want a few days to think."
Stuart sighed raggedly. "Fine. I just . . . miss you so much."
"I miss you," Vince whispered. "But I have to be on me own for a bit. All right? Can we do that? Just a few days?"
It took Stuart forever to answer and Vince was beginning to think he wouldn't say anything more at all. Then he sniffed and cleared his throat.
"I'll be here whenever you want to come back."
"All right. Thanks. I . . . I'll talk to you soon."
"I love you."
"I love you, Stuart. Bye." He hung up quickly because he was going to start sobbing. He felt like his heart was being pulled out through his ribs and he sat down hard on the kitchen floor. Covering his face, Vince cried silently into his hands until he felt Hazel in front of him, pulling him to her, holding him.
"All right, then . . . shhhhhh . . ." His mother put her arms around him and rocked him, sitting on the floor beside him. "It's all right. I know it's hard," she said, soothing him. "But you've got a purpose here, Vince. You've got a plan. No one said this was going to be easy."
"I'll die from this," he said against her shoulder.
"I promise you won't." Hazel kissed his forehead and wiped his tears with her soft fingers.
"How did he know it was you who'd been there?" he asked.
"My perfume, he said. He could smell me in the bedroom. Got a quite a nose on him, I'll give him that." She smiled sweetly. "All right now?"
Vince just shook his head.
Hazel got up and went to the counter to finish opening the wine. "You can sit there until you feel like standing up and I'll just put the sandwiches out."
He leaned his head back against the cabinet and closed his eyes, feeling two more tears track down his face. He was not going to get through this. There was just no way.
***
Hazel:
She took the pot of boiling water off the burner when she heard the doorbell, not wanting the pasta she was making to overcook. Hazel glanced at her watch and noted that Vince was due home in half an hour. Walking down the hallway to the door, she could see those shining black curls through the glass. She took a deep breath as she turned the knob-knowing he would burst through the door like a tidal wave.
Stuart shoved passed her and marched into the kitchen, his long dark raincoat fluttering at his sides like black wings. He looked around frantically, then pushed passed her again as he bounded up the stairs. Hazel shook her head and went back to the kitchen, putting the pot of pasta back on the stove.
She could hear Stuart stomping through the rooms upstairs trying to find any evidence of his lover's presence. Hazel knew he had to look for himself. Nothing she would say would have been accepted as the truth.
Finally, he came down and returned to the kitchen doorway where he stood glaring at her with his stormy dark eyes.
"Where is he?" he growled.
"He's at work, Stuart," she said patiently. "He does have job. If you wanted to make such a bloody scene, why didn't you start by going to the supermarket? You'd even have a huge audience there." Hazel stirred the pasta with a long wooden spoon and tried to appear unaffected by the velocity of his emotions. Truth was, she was trembling all the way down to her knickers. She had never seen him so keyed up, so anxious.
Stuart shifted his weight from one foot to the next, chewing his lip and scowling. "What the fuck is going on with him? Why won't he come home?"
"He will come home, I imagine," she said. "When he's ready." She set the spoon down and leaned against the counter, eyeing him with an open expression.
"Why did he leave?" Stuart asked her.
"He said it was because of all that business with the American bloke. Brian, right? That's his name?"
He nodded once. "I thought that was sorted . . ." he said. "I don't understand."
"Well, you'll have to ask him, luv. But I don't think he's ready to see you."
"I'm taking him home with me," Stuart insisted. "TONIGHT. This is fucking ridiculous." He yanked one of the chairs out from under the table and flopped himself down in it.
Hazel took a deep breath, steadying herself. "He asked you for a few days, Stuart. Can't you give him that? It's a small thing, really."
"No," he barked.
"And why not?" she challenged.
He glared at her with his jaw tightly set. "Because he's my lover and I miss him, Hazel. I need to have him with me."
"I understand that, Stuart, but he's only asked you for a few days to himself. I should think you would be able to grant him that after all he's done for you."
"Oh, and what is THAT supposed to mean?" he roared. "Am I meant to feel guilty and ashamed for what we did with Brian when it was HIS bloody idea?!! Vince is the one who invited Brian to ours, did he tell you that bit?! I'll bet he didn't. Oh, no . . . he's always the innocent one. Vince never does anything wrong!"
She sighed. "I KNEW that, Stuart. He told me all about how you met Brian in a bar and Vince asked him to come home with you. He said the whole thing was interesting and fun and that he enjoyed it until you paired off. He told me the three of you had an agreement to not do that. You paired off with Brian while Vince was sleeping and then, when you had a row the next day, you went to Brian's hotel and shagged him."
"I didn't shag him at the hotel," Stuart grumbled, looking down. They both knew that was hardly the point.
"Whatever," Hazel said. "The details aren't important. What's important, is that you DID it. You did it again-just like we all knew you would."
His eyes arrested hers fiercely and held on, but he said nothing.
"We all knew you would fuck this up," Hazel continued, holding onto the edge of the counter so he wouldn't see her hands shaking. "You knew it yourself. Now that you've done it, you're having trouble living with it."
"Brian never would have been around if Vince hadn't-"
She cut him off. "You brought the specter of Brian back from New York with you! He's YOUR doing, Stuart. You are still the one that broke the agreement by pairing off. That's on you. Don't you DARE deny that."
He grimaced and let out an angry sigh. "I didn't come here to get a fucking bollocking from you, Hazel! And to tell you the truth, this is none of your business! This is between me and Vince."
"Well then you'd better bloody leave `cos that's all that's here for you right now!" she said. "You cheated, Stuart, and now you have to pay for it. Vince isn't your sodding doormat, you know. He's not without pride!"
Stuart stood up so suddenly he knocked his chair over backward. Stomping down the hallway, he pulled open the door and tore down the front steps. She could hear the Jeep's driver's side door shut and the engine start.
Hazel stayed where she was gripping the edge of the counter with her trembling hands until she was certain he'd driven off. After a while, she went down the hall and closed the door.
* * *
Vince:
Lying on his side in the dark, he stared at the faint light coming through the curtains over Hazel's bedroom window. He could hear her breathing beside him but she wasn't asleep. It was almost 1:30 in the morning and they'd been lying there not sleeping for two hours. Vince sighed, rolling over onto his back.
"Right," Hazel said in the dark.
He could feel her move on the bed and the she got up, walking across the room to the turn on the light. He raised up on his elbows and watched his mother walk out into the hall in her long nightgown. After a moment, he could hear her footsteps on the stairs.
Hazel returned with a pretty decanter and two small matching glasses. He remembered that set from his childhood. Hazel always kept it on a high shelf in the kitchen and warned him that if he ever drank any of it, she's skin him alive. It was the "good booze" and he knew better than to mess with it.
She crept back on the bed, handing him the small glasses. Sitting on her knees, she took the delicate stopper out of the decanter then poured the coppery red liquid into the glasses he held.
"The good sherry," he said. "What's the occasion?"
"I know it doesn't seem like we should be celebrating right now, luv, but we should," she said. "You should have seen him tonight. He's . . . well, it's going just like you want it to." She set the decanter on the floor at the foot of the bed, then took one of the glasses from him.
"I don't know why he didn't come to the store," Vince said. "He knows my schedule. He knew I'd be there."
She tapped her glass against his and took a deep breath. "I have a theory about that, actually."
"Wha'?"
"I think . . . he wanted to go head to head with ME. He knew what I would say to him and just how I would treat him and I think he . . . needed that. He needed to have me put him in his place. Give him perspective." She shrugged. "That's what I think, anyway. Him coming here instead of going to the supermarket doesn't make sense otherwise."
Vince sipped his sherry and was surprised to find he rather liked the taste. He always thought it would be bitter or syrupy but it was actually quite smooth.
"I mean," she went on. "Stuart would never admit it, but he does think of me as a second mother."
"He's said as much to me," Vince defended. "He loves you, Mum. He really thinks the world of you."
"Well, not tonight he doesn't. But that aside, I think he feels a certain reverence toward me that gives me the right footing to say difficult things to him. He needs to be jarred every once in a while. He's allowed to run loose so often."
Vince looked down, taking that comment as a criticism of his own behavior. Hazel lifted his chin.
"I meant that he's allowed to run loose by everyone, Vince. Not just you."
He tried to smile but it was no use. Instead, he just sipped his sherry and tried not to wonder what his lover was doing right then. Was he awake, as well? Pacing the flat in his silky pajama bottoms, raking his fingers through his hair with worry? His mother must have seen his expression and known he was thinking of Stuart.
"Do you want me to leave you alone so you can have a wank?" Hazel said, smiling gently. "It'll help you sleep."
"No," Vince said, feeling his cheeks burn with embarrassment. "I couldn't feel less sexual, to tell you the truth. I just . . . miss him so badly. I just want to hold him and feel his body next to me. Sleeping with him is the best thing . . . the way he wraps around me . . . it's just fantastic."
She patted his hand. "Two more days. You can go home to him on Sunday and squeeze him `til he pops if you like. But you promised yourself you would wait, right?"
"Yeah," he said, dismally. "I reckon I've got no choice in that. Made my own bed so to speak."
Hazel reached back for the decanter and refilled their small glasses. As she turned to replace it on the floor, her bedroom door creaked open. Bernie stuck his head in, blinking sleepily against the overhead light.
"Oh, hiya, luv," she said. "Sorry, did we wake you?"
"I'm not bothered," Bernie said, leaning in the doorway. "Vince, are you all right?"
"No," he answered honestly.
Bernie smiled, scrubbing his beard with his fingers. "Can I offer you a bit of advice, luv?"
"Might as well."
Hazel held out her glass for him and Bernie came into the room to take it. He took a sip then handed it back to her, grimacing.
"Blech! Sherry. Disgusting stuff." Sitting on the end of the bed beside his friend, Bernie smoothed his graying hair down with his hands. "Vince, I've been watching you and Stuart dance around each other since you were lads and even when you two were rowing like wild cats you were always in love. You always looked to each other for support that no one else could give you. It was obvious that you were, you know . . . soulmates. That you completed each other."
"Christ, Bernie," Hazel teased. "Where were you hiding all THAT slush?"
"Cheeky tart," he said. "What I mean to say is that it was always obvious to everyone else that you were meant to be together. Nothing was going to stand in the way of that. He's a tough nut, your Stuart. He's ornery and selfish and pig-headed. But he loves you more than his own life-I promise you that. I'm basically objective here and I can tell you without one shred of doubt that Stuart is yours, heart and soul. Even though it seems a bit odd to me, if you really feel that staying away from him for a few days will wake him up to the fact that you could leave him at any time, so be it. You do what you need to steady yourself. But that man loves you, Vince. He's never intended to hurt you, he just . . . messes up. Often." Bernie spread his hands as though he'd said everything that needed saying and then he stood up and headed back to the doorway. "That's just me own rambling thoughts, but there you go."
"You think I should go back, then?" Vince asked.
"I think you should do what's right for you," Bernie said. "And your Stuart wants that, as well. He wants you to feel strong with him, Vince. I don't believe it's ever been his intention to break you down or walk all over you. He needs your strength just as much as you need it. So, if staying away is going to shore you up, then stay away. Stuart leans on you and he needs you to be anchored tightly." Bernie made a fist to illustrate his point, then he started back across the hall. "I've wittered on enough. Good night, luvs." He closed the door to Vince's old bedroom and that was that.
Hazel looked at her son with a little smile. "The sage philosopher has spoken," she said.
"I heard that," Bernie muttered through the door.
Vince laughed genuinely for the first time in two days and doing it was a wonderful relief.
"Good thoughts, though," she said quietly, just for him. "He's a bit crusty, our Bernie, but he's lived a full life and sees people very clearly. I think he's right that Stuart has good intentions."
Vince finished his sherry and asked her for another. He was just beginning to feel the effect of the alcohol and he thought it would actually help him sleep. While she refilled his small glass, Hazel watched his face.
"Gonna make it to Sunday?" she said.
He offered a doubtful smirk. "Ask me Sunday. If I'm still here to ask."
Hazel gave him a smile that said she knew he would be there. Mother's intuition, he supposed.
* * *
Stuart:
"You've been sleeping on the couch?" Kate asked him. They were on the phone that Saturday morning and Stuart was puttering around in the bedroom, trying to get some laundry together.
"Yeah," he said. "Can't face the bed."
"Have you talked to him at all?"
"No." He carried the cordless over to the bathroom and pulled down the dirty towels hanging on the rack in there. "He asked me to leave him be, so I will."
"I have a prediction," Kate said.
"All right . . ." He took the basket down to the washing machine and started hucking stuff inside.
"I think he'll be home tomorrow."
"Why do you think that?" He tossed in a scoop of detergent then turned the machine on, hoping he'd measured the soap out correctly. Stuart couldn't remember the last time he'd done the laundry since Vince always volunteered for that chore.
"I don't know," she said. "I just have a feeling."
Kate was quiet for a long time as he walked over to the couch and flopped down. Finally she spoke again and her tone was considerably lighter.
"When's the engagement party?"
"Katey," he said. "My lover moved out. We haven't exactly been planning the fucking engagement party."
"He did not move out, you dumbass. He just took a few days off. He'll be back tomorrow. I can feel it. So . . . when's the party. I have to get my flight arranged."
Stuart sighed, rolling his eyes. "If I had to guess, I'd say it will be next weekend. But that will depend on whether or not Vince comes home."
"Stuart," she said, warning playfully. "He's coming home. You're having your party and you're getting married. It's all going to go just like you planned. Nothing has changed. You DO know that, right?"
He just sat there sulking.
"Come on . . ." Kate urged. "You know he loves you and he's coming back to you as soon as he's ready. Right?"
"What if he doesn't?"
"You're just being a drama princess now. I don't have time for self pity," she teased. "I want to hear you say that you know he's coming back." Kate paused, waiting. "Say it . . ."
He sidestepped her question and went in a different direction. "Why don't you come for a few days? Come in on Wednesday and stay with us through the weekend."
"Fine, that sounds great," she said. "I'll book the flight Monday. But, you're not off the hook about Vince. I'm not hanging up until you say you know he's coming back to you."
Stuart exhaled theatrically. "All right, you bloody cow. I know he's coming back."
"Say it like you mean it," she instructed.
"Katey . . ."
"Come on!"
That time, he actually smiled a little. "I know he's coming back," he said, softly and he did mean it. He knew.
"Good boy," Kate said. "Now, I'm going to go meet our lovely Brian at the airport for coffee. He's on a three-hour layover at JFK on a flight to Atlanta. I promised him I'd keep him company."
"Fine," Stuart said. "Desert me. Be that way."
"I will," she said. "You don't need me anymore, anyway. Go straighten up the house. Your lover's coming home tomorrow and you've got to make sure the sheets are clean."
He sighed, glancing around the very large, very quiet flat. "Right. If you say so. Kiss Brian for me, yeah?"
"Ick. Kiss him yourself-on second thought, don't." She laughed. "That's how you got into this mess, isn't it? All right, I'll do it for you just this once but you'll owe me."
Stuart chuckled. "Deal. Love you."
"I love you, too, bunny. Talk to you later."
Stuart sat with the phone on his belly for a long time after she hung up. For some reason he felt quite relaxed and calm. He missed Vince like mad but-like Kate said-he did know deep down inside that his lover was coming home. Maybe not as soon as tomorrow, but soon. Stuart realized he'd been on his own for almost three full days and he hadn't felt the need for an orgasm even once.
The first day had been the worst and he drank himself numb so he didn't have to feel that initial pain of potential abandonment. The second day had been bad, but his emotional rancor had been more a result of anger than sadness. Anger was far more manageable. After his outburst at Hazel's, he'd just come back to the flat and sprawled on the couch for the rest of the night, falling asleep with the remote in his hand sometime around 2:30 in the morning. The place echoed without Vince there and he hated that aspect of it the most. Funny how the flat never seemed empty when he lived there by himself.
Going to the kitchen to pour himself some juice, Stuart stopped for a moment and looked around. The place had very much become both his and Vince's and each of their personalities were reflected in every corner of the flat. Their furniture even mixed together well, which was a shock considering how different the styles were. The fish tank burbled near the bedroom wall as though it was always meant to be there and the bookshelves held an even combination of Vince's videotapes and Stuart's books and travel souvenirs.
Yes, that flat had become their home and Stuart was just beginning to realize the full weight of what that meant. He was half of a couple- one part of a whole unit. That was a giant responsibility that brought with it a whole host of conflicting emotions and doubts. He supposed that was how everyone felt when they decided to get married, but he had been completely unprepared for the feelings. If he'd been paying more attention, he would have seen the whole thing coming with Vince and his panic attack. He would have seen it coming a mile away.
The signs were all there. The way Vince had acted when they returned from Scotland. The way he so willingly brought Brian into the mix. The way he seemed so ready to forgive Stuart after his infidelity. All those things added up to the inevitable mental breakdown that Vince was experiencing now. He was just as terrified as Stuart and just like Stuart, he had no idea how to deal with the fear.
Leaning against the counter with his juice, Stuart let out a long sigh and wondered just how long his boyish lover would stay away.
* * *
Hazel:
Vince slept late that Saturday morning and she knew he didn't have to work until the afternoon. Half day shift, as well. She felt like she had to keep him very busy so he wouldn't end up going home any earlier than he'd planned.
They got dressed and went into the city for brunch and then she took him shopping for clothes. He hated shopping for clothes so it took his mind off things enough that he got through the day without too much whinging. Granted, every other thing he saw in the shop windows reminded him of Stuart or would look lovely on Stuart or would be something Stuart would buy for him. However, he did manage to make it through to his four o'clock shift without slitting his wrists.
Hazel promised to make him his favorite macaroni casserole for tea and asked him to bring home some more wine. When she left him at the supermarket, Vince seemed almost stable. He even gave her a kiss on the cheek and smiled with his sparkling blue eyes.
* * *
Vince:
Standing at the counter drying the last of the dinner dishes, he and Hazel were discussing plans for the rest of the evening.
"It's Saturday night," she said. "Let's go to Babylon."
"Nah," he said. "I don't want to go out."
"Fine. We'll stay here. Is there anything good on telly?"
He tossed the towel on the counter and went over to the coffee table in the lounge. Rifling some papers, he located the program guide and looked through it for that night's listings. "All repeats of the programs. Couple o' films. `Casablanca'. `Kiss of the Spider Woman'. Nothin' much." He sat down on the chair next to the table and sighed heavily. "Right. Let's go out for a drink."
"Oh! A change of heart?" she said, brightening.
"Yeah. Might as well."
"Good. Let me just change clothes and slap on some lipstick. I'll be ready in a tick." She hurried up the stairs and Vince turned on the telly to amuse himself while he waited for her.
Glancing at his watch, he noted that it was just after nine.
* * *
Nathan:
Donna rang him on his mobile just as he was leaving the house to go to Canal Street.
"Nathan!" she squealed. "Have you heard?"
"Wha'?"
Taking a deep breath, Donna began speaking in one long, uninterrupted sentence. "Well, you know how I told you that Amanda Boyce was talking to Chinese Susan the other day and Susan said she heard from Nicole Gooch who's aunt works with Hazel's friend, Bernie, that Vince was staying at Hazel's and had been for a few days. Did you know about that?"
"No," Nathan said, frowning. "Is that all you heard?"
"That's all for now, but I have my spies out there with their ears pricked. Do you think they broke up?"
"Dunno." He stopped in his path toward the village and changed direction. "I'm going to go `round their flat and see if Stuart's there. Pick you up in half an hour, yeah?"
"Right," Donna chortled sarcastically. "If Stuart's there alone, I won't be seein' hide nor hair of you tonight." She hung up and Nathan pocketed his phone. He waved for a cab and gave the driver Stuart's address.
* * *
Stuart:
He jumped when the door buzzer sounded and hurried across the room to answer it.
"Yeah?"
"Stuart?"
Sighing, he leaned against the wall. "Nathan. What do you want?"
"I was just passin'. Thought I'd see if you were all right. I heard that Vince was staying at Hazel's and I was just-"
"How the fuck do you hear these things?" he snapped. "Was it on the bloody news?"
"It's Donna," Nathan said. "She's always talking. So, is everything all right?"
"It's nothing to do with you."
"I know, but . . . I was still concerned. When I saw you last week on Canal Street, you were bloody pissed and you were kissin' all over that American bloke. I wasn't sure what to make of it all."
He just stood there with his jaw clenched listening to Nathan Maloney breath on the intercom phone.
"Stuart?"
"What?"
"IS everything all right? Do you need anything?"
"No. Thanks for looking in on us, Nathan. Vince and I are doing just fine. See ya." He hung up the phone and stood there with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, glaring at the front door. He half expected Nathan to come up anyway, even though he hadn't been invited. He waited there for almost five minutes and when nothing happened, he finally turned and went back to the couch.
He threw himself into the cushions and wrapped up in the blanket he'd dragged off the bed. It smelled like Vince and he held it to his face, inhaling deeply and closing his eyes. Curling up into a ball, he pointed the remote at the television and searched the channels with vague interest.
* * *
Vince:
He and Hazel had managed to stay out for a few hours that night crawling the clubs and getting half pissed. They had fun together and couldn't remember the last time they'd gone to the village on their own.
As the cab let them out in front of her house that night, he glanced at his watch again. 11:45. He and his mother went inside and she put the kettle on for a cup of tea before they turned in.
While she was busy looking for her lighter, Vince went upstairs and packed his things. He brought his suitcase down and set it by the door, then went into the kitchen again. Hazel sat at the table with a cigarette between her lips, carefully removing the rings on her fingers. She looked up at him with a smile as he leaned in the doorway.
"That was a laugh, wasn't it?" she said cheerily.
"Yeah," he said, then he walked over to her and placed a kiss on her forehead. "Thanks for everything, Mum. I'm off."
She gaped at him and had to take the cigarette out of her mouth so it wouldn't drop on the floor. "But-"
He held up his watch so she could see the time. "Twelve oh one," he said, his eyes glistening. "Sunday." He winked and turned toward the hallway.
"You cheeky sod, you. Vincent," she said, her voice slightly crisp. "Don't leave unless you believe yourself."
He smiled at her sweetly but said nothing. Then he went down the hall and grabbed his bag, letting himself out the front door.
* * *
Stuart:
Dead asleep in a ball on the couch with the television on low, he didn't even notice when Vince came in. Stuart was just coming out of a deep dream . . . something about umbrellas and wet streets and green, rain-laden grass. He could almost smell that grass. And the oily, metallic scent of the wet street. He groaned and stretched his neck slowly, carefully beginning to unwind himself from his fetal position.
Vince stood beside the couch looking down at him, his blondish hair dappled with raindrops. He wore his camel raincoat and a cream colored sweater and his brown trousers were speckled with water.
Stuart blinked and sat up slowly, not sure he was really awake.
"Hiya," Vince said softly.
"You're back, then?"
"Assuming you want me."
Stuart took a deep breath and let it out, rubbing his sleepy eyes with the backs of his fingers. Vince sat beside him on the couch, looking up at him tentatively. Regarding his boyfriend's wet coat, Stuart frowned.
"You're getting the couch wet."
"Sorry, it's chucking down out there."
"Take that off," he said irritably, tugging the coat from its side panel.
Vince sat forward and took off the coat, laying it out flat on the floor by the couch. He ran his hands through his hair, brushing away the drops of rain. Stuart watched all of this with great interest, tracking each of the other man's movements as though he'd never seen Vince before. For a long time they just looked at each other in the quiet living room, pale blue eyes on dark blue eyes.
"So what the fuck happened?" Stuart said.
Vince folded his hands in his lap and breathed a thoughtful sigh. "Do you remember when I said that Brian was your last free shag?"
"'Course I do, yeah."
"Did you believe me, Stuart? When I said I'd leave you if you copped off with someone else again?"
Stuart regarded him a bit coldly for a moment before answering. "Why on earth would I not believe you?"
"I'm just . . . asking. Did you believe me?"
"Yes."
Vince frowned, turning slightly toward Stuart on the couch. "Does it . . . matter to you?"
Widening his eyes, Stuart stared at his lover. "What the fuck do you mean?"
"Just what I said. Does it matter to you that I'll leave you if you sleep with someone else again?"
Stuart got up and wriggled out of the white blanket, walking away across the room to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and took out a bottle of water, standing at the counter drinking it while he tried to figure out how to respond.
After a moment, Vince walked over to him, leaning cautiously on the counter a few feet away. The kitchen light was off but they could see each other clearly in the soft bluish glow from the lounge.
"I don't know what you want me to say," Stuart whispered, feeling as though Vince might disappear again if he spoke too loudly. "I've told you over and over how I need you. How I love you. I want to marry you, Vince. I don't know how much clearer I can be about showing my affection for you. Of course it would matter to me if you left. I'd die. You KNOW that. Yes, I believed you when you said that was my last chance and-I was shocked that you forgave me at all. Dunno that I would have, if I were you."
Vince breathed a sad laugh, looking down. "You've never had to forgive me for anything. You wouldn't know what it feels like to go through that."
"I'll have to forgive you for this, won't I?" Stuart said. "Suppose I'll sort out what it feels like quite soon." He brought the bottle to his lips and drank some more of the water, his eyes never letting go of their hold on Vince's.
"I have to be forgiven because I needed some time to think?" he asked, his brow knitting slightly.
"You need to be forgiven for the way you handled it. You ran off like a coward and never gave me a chance to talk to you. I don't forgive you, yet, Vince. Not for that bit. That was just plain disrespect."
Wincing slightly, Vince nodded. "Fine," he said softly.
Stuart offered him the water, which he politely refused, then he opened the fridge again and put the bottle back inside. Passing his lover in the narrow kitchen, Stuart walked back to the lounge where he shut off the television. He stood there in the quiet room for a moment, running his hands through his hair and trying to organize his thoughts. At once he was angry and then he felt sad and then he felt chuffed to bits that Vince was back home and then he felt numb. All these feelings whirled around inside him like a mad storm and he couldn't get control of any of it.
Finally, he just went up to the bedroom and turned down the bed. Vince came up the steps and leaned in the doorway, his hands tucked in the pockets of his trousers.
"Is that it, then?" Vince asked.
Stuart looked at him and spread his hands. "What else do you want to say?"
"Are we all right?"
"You tell me! You're the one that bloody left." He sat on the bed and pulled off his t-shirt, slipping the covers over him as he laid down.
"I left because I needed to know I could, Stuart," Vince said softly. "Truth is, it had very little to do with you. I had to know for meself that I could keep my word and not just come runnin' back to you like a well-trained dog."
"Fine," Stuart said. "Now you know." He laid on his back in the big bed and stared at the ceiling. His jaw was clenched so tightly it was beginning to give him a headache.
"And I needed you to know, as well."
"Vince, I DID know. I'm not daft!" He covered his face with his hands and closed his eyes, feeling his heart beating so hard it shook the mattress.
He heard Vince's foot steps on the floor as he walked around to Stuart's side of the bed. He sat down on the mattress at his lover's side and waited until Stuart looked up at him.
"It's not easy being in your shadow all the time," he said, his voice low and gravelly.
"You are NOT in my bloody shadow, Vince. You never have been. At least not to me."
"But I felt like I was," he went on emphatically. "Don't you see? If I'm going to marry you and be with you for the rest of my life, I needed to know that I could stand on me own two feet. I can't . . . I couldn't go into a commitment of that magnitude without answering that for myself. You've got to understand . . . I know you do."
Stuart sat up suddenly and looked him in the eye. "I'm not saying I don't understand WHY you left, I'm only saying I disagree with the MANNER in which you left. You did it badly and you hurt me. That's the problem, here, Vince. Not your reasons for going."
They just looked at each other as the words hung in the air, electrified and tense, waiting to be brought down by a soft breath of calmness.
"Fine," Vince said. "All right. I . . . I'm not ready to apologize, Stuart. I can only tell you I understand and that I accept what you said."
Looking away, Stuart sighed deeply. He could feel himself shaking and he wished he could stop it. He was tired and sad and relieved and the only thing he wanted was to wrap their bodies around each other and sleep for hours. While he was thinking of that, Vince stood up and began undressing.
When he was down to his trousers and socks, he looked at Stuart sitting on the bed. "Want me to sleep on the sofa?"
Stuart shook his head once. "I . . . I don't want to have sex, but I . . ."
Vince laughed softly, sadly. "Blimey," he said. "No one will ever believe you just said that."
Stuart tried to smile but found he didn't have the energy. He just laid down and turned on his side, waiting until Vince finished undressing and crawled in behind him.
They spooned together in their bed, connecting in all the familiar places, limbs around limbs, Vince nuzzling the soft curls at the nape of Stuart's neck and his arms draped over the lean slope of Stuart's waist. All the parts fitting together like the simple puzzle they were-but they had never felt so far away from each other. The End
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